words

[loonylupinlover]

Sometimes I could cry for the words inside,
that roil and tumble and bubble
inside this body so oblivious
at times.

I want to spill them all out on paper,
give voice to the voiceless,
give this howling choked scream inside me
some small release.

Lithe fingers trace light trails across the blank nothing
and they leave bright clear words behind,
words that shine,
words that shimmer,
words that dance and love and kill.

I miss ripping myself open and seeing letters pour out.
I miss whimsy, miss horror, miss jokes.

Some idiot void has stopped up the flow
of my strange vivid words
and now they clamor, now they hum,
now they yearn to escape.

But someone's cut the rope ladder
and they fall away,
forgotten.